Birds circle higher in the cloudless sky
this Sunday, fifty days after, and I
half-expect one to descend on this day
that is a moveable feast, and half-expect
no signs, a baptism of only air.
Pentecost
Tag birds
Blue Jays
The jays, protectors of forests, today protect
the St. Francis statue. These blue messengers
of the gods and to loved ones,
afterlife helpers who mate for life, busily
screaming at shared enemies in my dream.
If you are interested in learning more about blue jay symbolism
and spiritual meanings, see https://thebirdguide.com/blue-jays-symbolism/
No Mind
In the clear light of this morning,
calendarless, if not timeless, this lone flicker
appreciates water that is not frozen,
pecks the full feeder and pays this
first day of the year no mind.
Zen and Daoist meditators attempt to reach a state of “no mind.” It is called Mushin in Japanese and Wuxin in Chinese. I learned about it in Zen study where it was described as “mind without mind” – a mind not fixed or occupied by thought or emotion and thus open to everything. It is translated by D.T. Suzuki as “being free from mind-attachment.”
A friend posted this new song today and it does seem to work with this poem.
The Thing with Feathers Flies Away
The bird who recently built its nest
in the drainpipe is either very optimistic –
or foolish. I feel that hopeful optimism
is foolish in these darkly troubling times.
Maybe the thing with feathers is optimism.
The title and final line here is a nod to Emily Dickinson’s poem
in which the thing with feathers is hope
in the form of a bird who seems unabashed
by any troubles around it.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Scarlet Experiments
It’s what we do to birds, poems,
relationships – we cut them open – to expose
inner secrets and try to figure out
how it works or why it doesn’t.
In the end, we murder to dissect.
Bird skull image by Ian Lindsay from Pixabay
Emily Dickinson’s poem “Split the Lark” refers to the “scarlet experiment.” I had to look up that reference. It is a term applied to when scientists destroy a bird or any creature in order to learn more about it. As Emily says, you can’t find the music inside the bird.
“Split the Lark – and You’ll find the Music –
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled –
Scantily dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear, when Lutes be old –
Loose the Flood – you shall find it patent –
Gush after Gush, reserved for you –
Scarlet Experiment! Skeptic Thomas!
Now, do you doubt that your Bird was true?”
(Dickinson 391)
I read about this in Scarlet Experiment: Birds and Humans in America which also looks at how some writers, including Emily, use birds in their literature.
“We murder to dissect” comes from a poem by William Wordsworth, “The Tables Turned”
“Sweet is the lore which nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things;
—We murder to dissect.”
Both poems consider how we analyze to the point of destroying things in nature. In my poem, I consider how we also do it with relationships.
Migration
“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” – Lao Tzu
The birds are leaving for winter places
on this, my birthday. I’m staying here.
The seasons are changing. So will I.
I don’t know my destination or if
I will return here. So it is.
Writing the Day 